


Harmony of Pure

by Nik_Fic



Series: Sprint fics [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Dies But Not Really, Gen, it's aesthetic and he doesn't /fully/ die so bear with me, there's only a slight bit of death contemplation in this fic and it's very short and uplifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nik_Fic/pseuds/Nik_Fic
Summary: Bucky is in a strange new place with no memories - none which make sense, that is.Written for a 30 minute sprint. Prompt: Heaven.





	Harmony of Pure

Contrary to popular belief (speculation?), the first thing he noticed about heaven was the darkness. It shrouded his being as he walked up the stairs which appeared to have no beginning steps. He tried looking back, but the world surrounding him seemed to be panoramic, no backwards in sight. The stairs and the shades slowly but surely brightened as he continued to step along, not knowing how his legs moved.

 

He was dead, right?

 

The last thing he remembers was… Wait that can’t be-

How had the paper’s date been in year 2017? That would make him 100 years old and he’d -

He’d just been captured with the rest of the 107th. Steve, Steve was in Brooklyn and he had failed him, he had died, he had been captured.

 _‘I guess I didn’t win the war ‘til he got here, after all,’_ he pondered cynically.

While fleeting thoughts about the confusing situation he was in and many strewn-about memories flooding into his mind should have caused panic, he rationalised, there was no quickening of breath, no pounding heart like he remembers having by Steve’s bedside through many winters, like the episodes of shell shock he’d hidden from his superiors in the shadows of hastily dug trenches.

He was almost at the top of the staircase when he fully noticed; he wasn’t breathing. Nor did he feel any punch to his thoughts and memories, other than a settling realisation that he must have lived a much longer life than could ever have hoped for, even before he’d been drafted.

The top of the staircase was a small platform, only slightly bigger than one of the glowing steps, the looming vast area of - was that gold? White? Black? Luminescent, definitely. He hesitated before taking a slightly smaller step forwards than he had with the previous steps, trespassing a slightly shorter distance than before, not quite reaching the end platform as a result. And then he went flying.

 _‘Am I going to hell?’_ Bucky wondered. Then, he was caught by, by-

 

A cape?

 

Light saturated his vision, although this light was different than the staircase's. The bright staircase and its light had been almost like a shadow, only the opposite. This light was-, this light was coloured and hued and clashing. And beautiful. Gilded, shining, small lightning bursts, he would describe them as, were surrounding him in increasingly smaller and more delicate patterns. Everything, except the golden structures, was blurred, although his focus was returning to him at an exponential rate.

A man in a cape was standing in front of him - no, not standing. He was flying, just like he remembered he had flown after the unexpected leap off the staircase. The man was speaking to him.

“Stay here. Wait for your backup before you do anything drastic. You’re lucky I saw you and had enough time to react.”

And with that, the man flew off, and he relished in the newfound waves of light particles surrounding him, sheathing his mind and body in the real world once more.

For just one moment, he let himself think of that place again. The grandeur, magnificence and the splendour was poorly reconstructed in the limited recollection his thoughts provided, but he thought that he wouldn’t have minded if he had just stepped that bit further, reaching the golden, no, the void-black appearance of the distance in front of him, before the cape had caught him flying. He had a mission, though. A fight, _the_ fight was still crashing and burning around him. His backup would arrive any minute now, any second.

 

Someday, though, he would return, and the war raging on would rejoice in a harmony of pure.


End file.
